


Bullet Holes and Thunder Clouds

by Jodygoroar



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, Female Masterbation, Flirting, Making Out, Male masterbation, Oral Sex, Romanorogers, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, firefighter! steve, otp, physical therapist! natasha, safe sex, serious flirting, smut smut smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7713466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jodygoroar/pseuds/Jodygoroar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is a NYC firefighter captain who got injured on the job now he has to go to physical therapy, turns out his therapist is Natasha Romanoff. Soulmate mark AU, this is going to be smutty. Many other Marvel characters are mentioned. Blame it all on a single Soviet bullet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rehab's No Joke

**Author's Note:**

> I know absolutely nothing about physical therapy or knee injuries so please forgive any errors I may have, oh well, that's not exactly the point of this fic anyway. :D The title will make more sense at one point or another, promise. This work was not beta-d, all typos and errors are my own.
> 
> Enjoy, and comments feed my soul!

“Thanks for the ride, Buck,” Steve said to his friend, falling, more than climbing out of the vintage Camaro. Moving was difficult. Cars were tricky, but the low body of the 1969 Z28 in combination with the tall curb he’d parked beside made standing near impossible. Juggling two crutches, and favoring a healing knee in a restraining brace, Steve clambered onto the sidewalk in front of New York city’s finest rehabilitation center.

“No prob, buddy,” Bucky said, that cocky smirk on his face. “Meet ya back here when you’re done,” he told him, speeding off down the street, making a squealing sharp turn at the light.

Steve stood on the curb a moment longer, shaking his head at his friend. He turned, looking up at the looming sign above, _Renew: Physical Therapy Services_ , “All right, let’s do this.”

He checked in at the front desk and then was led to a huge room filled with equipment, mats, and one wall covered in floor to ceiling mirrors. Steve took a seat at the end of a row of chairs near the door and waited.

“Natasha is with another client right now, but she should be finishing up in just a moment,” the receptionist, Maria, had told him.

Taking a survey of the room, Steve noticed a variety of clients, there were a few older people, moving slowly with yoga balls and light weights. One man was coaching his friend across the parallel bars as he painfully put one foot in front of the other, struggling to stay on his feet, braces encasing his legs from hip to foot.

He heard her before he saw her. “Davay, vy mozhete sdelat' eto!” she shouted encouragingly at a man about his age, pulling tight on elastic resistance bands, the strain clear on his face mixed with determination as he reached his goal. “Yes! Clint you are amazing,” she told him.

Steve turned away, had she shouted at him in Russian? The rest of her words were lost to him as he pondered the events that had brought him to be in this place.

He’d been lucky not to be killed in the fall, Steve was working, there had been a fire in a small apartment building in Queens, kids still trapped inside. He’d heard Bucky’s call over the radio that everyone was clear of the building at the same instant he heard the support beams go out from under him, the floor caving in. He landed hard, tearing every tendon in his right knee, he’d laid in the ashes for five minutes before Bucky and Sam had found him, pulling him from the rubble. Aside from the excruciating pain in his knee he was unhurt.

All in all, Steve thought, it could have been a lot worse, but now he was on medical leave until his knee mended. Two surgeries and a month in the hospital had gotten him patched but now he faced six months of rehab until he would even be considered to go back into the field.

“Rogers?” her voice dragged him out of his own personal pity party. Steve looked up at her. She wore skin tight black yoga pants, a single red stripe running the length of her toned legs, and a red tank top with a black triangle in the center. Her hair was a gorgeous shade of red and his mouth suddenly went dry, his heart slamming against his ribcage. The mark on his sternum tingled for a split second, making him wonder if he’d imagined it. He never expected to come across his soul mate so easily, and there was no way his luck would allow him to be mated with such a beautiful creature as she who stood before him.

Shaking his head of the past and the draw of destiny to find his other half, Steve smiled politely at her, “Yes, Steve Rogers, bum knee.”

She returned his smile, letting her eyes roam down his body to his braced knee stuck out straight in front of him. “Natasha,” she held out a hand for him to shake. “Ready to get started?”

Taking her hand, allowing her to help him to his feet, and soundly ignoring the jolt of electricity that ran up his arm at the contact, he nodded, fresh determination settling in his mind, “Let’s do it.”

Natasha brought him to a flat area in the corner of the room and asked him to demonstrate his current range of pain-free motion while asking typical questions about his medical history. How had the injury happened? What surgeries had they performed? How long had it been since his stitches were removed? The usual question that he knew were in the file his doctor had had faxed to the center.

“All right, you’re looking pretty good post-op,” she said tossing him a bottle of water. “It helps that you were in good physical shape before the accident, it will speed up your recovery.”

He nodded and took a long drink of the cold water, his heart still thumping heavily in his chest, and not from the excursion of his bad knee. She was damn sexy and he kept finding his eyes lingering on her lips, her eyes, her breasts. He mentally slapped himself.

“Ready for a little more intense stretching?” she asked, moving to sit in front of him on the mat.

“Ok,” he said, capping the water and setting it aside. “What’s next?” he asked trying to focus on her words rather than her body.

“I’m going to manipulate your leg, stretching the muscles and seeing where your pain starts and where it becomes unbearable. I need you to be honest with me, when it’s too much tell me, or I could inadvertently do more damage than good,” she explained. “Understand?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed.

She instructed him to lay back and loosen his limbs, “I’m going to start with your good leg, it’s always important not to forget the uninjured side.”

She was very thorough with her explanations which set him a little more at ease.

By the end of the two-hour session Steve was exhausted and dripping sweat. Natasha had stretched his hips, knees, and ankles, twisting gently but firmly in every direction the human body goes, testing his limitations and pain levels, as well as his patience and self-control. Clearly Natasha had no problem getting into his personal space, and he tried his best not to show how her closeness affected him. With every new movement he noticed a slight raise of her eyebrows, as though she were impressed with his response to her ministrations.

“All right, Rogers, you’re looking good. If you work as hard as I expect you can, we can beat your six-month goal and maybe have you ready to go in four,” she stood, stretching her neck side to side and sticking her hand out once more to help him off the floor.

“That would be great!” he said, a bit of new hope kindling in his stomach. “Same time on Wednesday?” he asked.

“Yes, I want to see you at least three times a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays work for you?” she asked as she turned and bent over to scoop up her sneakers that she’d discarded ten minutes into their session. “I hate wearing shoes when working on the floor,” she’d told him.

Steve found his eyes zeroing in on her backside as the material of her pants stretched over the curves of her ass, his mouth going dry, and the mark tingling once more.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded, as she stood, looking questioningly into his eyes.

“I said do Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays work for you?” she repeated, cocking one finely shaped eyebrow at him.

“Uh, huh, yea,” he cleared his throat trying to get a grip on his thoughts, praying she didn’t notice the half erection in his gym shorts. “Yea that works for me.”

“Good, drink a lot of water tonight and rest tomorrow, you’re going to be sore and it’s only going to get more intense from here,” she said, placing one hand on her hip, sipping from her water bottle.

Steve swallowed hard as he watched the muscles in her throat work. “Got it.”

“All right, get some rest, I’ll see you at 3:00 on Wednesday,” she waved briefly and headed off in the direction of what he assumed were the therapists’ locker rooms.

He stood there a moment longer, his mark tingling, his mind reeling, and his dick aching. God. _Why’d she have to be so sexy?_ Steve shook his head not for the first time and took the elevator down to the street, climbing into Bucky’s car.

“How was it, man?” he asked, pulling into late afternoon traffic.

“Good. It was good,” he said, not quite ready to share every last detail with him.

 

_Shit!_ Why did her new client have to be a Greek sex god brought to life?!

Steve Rogers was gorgeous, and ripped. After all he’d have to be, being a fire fighter, and the captain no less! Even worse, he was kind and funny. She was really in trouble this time. Sure Nat had worked with attractive clients before, Rhodes was a good looking guy, and his buddy Tony, who never missed a session it seemed, was gorgeous in his own cocky way, but Steve Rogers was a new level of sex appeal.

From the moment she spotted him her insides had turned to mush; burning mush. A big puddle of molten lava. Only her extreme stubbornness and sheer force of will had kept her mind in a semi-professional level of work mode.

She did her best to keep her thoughts clear and focus on the job at hand, but the job at hand involved putting her hands all over that gorgeous piece of meat. She could feel the movement of his muscles under his warm skin, and it made her heart pound and her skin flush. She deliberately ignored the tingle of her mark during the two-hour session.

Nat took a cold shower after leaving Steve, looking a little shell-shocked, in the therapy room. As the water ran in rivers down her spine she allowed her thoughts to wander freely.

Those eyes, those lips, the muscles, his laugh, every single part of him drew her in, burning a fire through her veins. She pressed her hands to the cold tile in front of her, needing something to anchor herself in the here and now, but it was no use. Natasha was lost in those eyes, flecks of green in the oceans of blue.

With a heavy sigh she gave in to the blaze, her hands drifting over her body. She caressed her skin, hot, despite the frigid water. Her eyes closed, her hands skimming over her breasts, she pinched her nipples the way she wanted him to do. Her arousal grew exponentially, she was drowning in a lake of lava, and without a second thought she sank into the heat.

Her hands wandered down her body, to the apex of her thighs, she was so wet at just the thought of him, liquid gold pooling in her core. Natasha leaned back against the wall, the cool tiles adding to the sensations ruining her every logical thought. She pressed her fingers against her clit, rubbing little circles over the bundle of nerves. With the image of Steve sweating through his t-shirt, his gym shorts riding high on his thighs as she gripped his knee, she came fast and hard, panting for oxygen, sparks flying behind her eyelids, but the buzz of arousal didn’t abate, her nerves singing his name.

She stubbornly ignored the tingling in her soulmate mark as she dried and dressed, getting ready to head home for the day. Nat had never really expected to find her soul mate, she’d contented herself her entire life with a few good friendships and the occasional hard fucking. As far as she was concerned love was out of the question. With seven billion people on the planet and only one other who supposedly had the mark that matched your own the odds were stacked seriously against anybody, and Nat had never had much luck. There was no way she’d be lucky enough to not only find her mate, right here in New York no less, but that he’d be that gorgeous hunk of man meat. No way, so she shoved the thought of soulmates away.

Still lost deep in thought, she nearly missed Maria’s words on the way out the door.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” she tried to focus through the fog of arousal that still clung to her mind.

Maria laughed, “I said have a good night, Nat.”

“Yea, you, too,” she waved and walked out the door, striding to her motorcycle at the back of the employee parking lot.

Natasha was plagued that night by erotic dreams of blue-green eyes, a smile brighter than the sun, and a shoulder to waist ratio that would have left any woman with eyes in a puddle of her own juices.

This was going to be interesting to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally used Google translate for that bit that Nat says in Russian, it's "Come on, you can do it!"


	2. Plugging Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve continues rehab with Natasha, who gets to meet Bucky. He fights through some serious sexual frustration due to a certain gorgeous redhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has already had such an amazing response and I want to thank everyone of you that has read, kudo-d, and commented on this! It is so wonderful to have such a great reaction to my writing! I'm really excited about this and have some ideas about a possible spin off story in the future. :D  
> As always comments are amazing and help feed the muse!

Steve was looking forward to his next therapy session with the eagerness of a kid on Christmas Eve. He told himself he was excited to continue working and healing, getting better and returning to his normal level of activity.

Deep in his gut he knew it was everything to do with Natasha. She’d haunted his dreams the past two nights. Unfocused images of evocative grey green eyes, fiery red hair, legs for days, and a sultry voice whispering his name.

Both nights he awoke in the early hours of the morning, his heart slamming in his chest, his cock rock hard and straining against his boxers. “Damn,” he whispered into the darkness.

From the moment he had fallen through the charred ceiling, hitting the floor below, feeling his knee tear itself apart, he had known it would be a long hard journey to recovery, he just hadn’t imagined it to be so… literal. He lay awake as the sky slowly lightened to the grey of early dawn, reminding him again of a certain pair of eyes. Idly his fingers danced over the mark on his chest, where a dull buzzing sensation had lingered.

Groaning in frustration Steve threw the sheets aside. No sense in lying in bed wide awake, his thoughts driving him a little crazier with every moment that went by. He shuffled to the kitchen, walking quietly past Bucky’s closed door, careful not to wake him. Bucky had been working the night shift the past few weeks, and got extremely cranky when he didn’t get enough sleep.

Propping one crutch against the counter Steve started the coffee, pulling eggs and bread from the fridge. He made himself a little breakfast and settled in front of the TV to catch the morning news.

“Hey. Steve!” Bucky was yelling and kicking his good knee gently. Clearly he had fallen asleep on the couch, some awful soap opera blaring on the set in front of him. “You all right, man?”

Steve stretched and yawned, it must be past noon if Bucky was awake. “Yea, didn’t sleep too well last night,” he replied.

“Well, get this shit off the tube,” Bucky told him, plopping down on the couch next to Steve, a microwave breakfast burrito in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. He propped his feet up on the coffee table, nudging the remote over with his toes.

Grabbing the remote, Steve began flipping channels, searching for something less awful. He was surfing through the 700’s when Bucky got straight to the point, “So what’s the deal with your therapist?” No preamble with him.

“What about her?” Steve asked, a flutter in his stomach, was it so obvious; his attraction to Natasha?

“ _Her_?” he looked at him sideways from over his burrito. “You didn’t tell me it was a her. In fact, you didn’t tell me anything about it. Dish, Rogers.”

“Her name is Natasha…” Steve didn’t know what else to say without giving himself away, he shook his head slightly. “I don’t know, she’s professional, seems to know what she’s doing.”

Bucky just stared at him, waiting, clearly demanding more information.

Sighing, Steve said, “She wants to see me three times a week, thinks we can get me back to work in four months instead of six.” He resumed flipping channels, hoping that was enough detail for his persistent friend.

He wasn’t quite ready to explain in more depth how quickly Natasha had begun affecting him. That smile, the auburn hair like flames framing her gorgeous face, and a devilish wit that caught at his own sense of humor. He wasn’t even sure how to put it all into words, and he sure as hell wasn’t prepared to deal with the intense ribbing he knew would follow.

“Uh…huh…” was, thankfully, the only response he got. Steve internally sighed, knowing that this battle was far from over, Bucky would never let anything go that easily. It was a temporary reprieve, but he’d take it.

“All right, I’m going to shower. You can drive me again today?” he stood from the couch and started towards the bathroom.

“Of course, buddy!” Bucky said, a little too happy about it.

 

Natasha was wrapping up with Peggy, finishing a cool down after their session. Peggy was one of her favorite clients, a hard as ice British officer and a WWII veteran. She was determined and focused, never letting Nat down, and always working way beyond what was expected of her.

Peggy hit the rep mark a huge smile splitting her face, “Amazing, Peggy, as always.”

“Thank you, Natasha,” she replied in her lilting accent. “You’ve been a real life saver. I am so grateful for all the help you’ve given me.”

“Of course, it’s a real joy working with you. Same time next week?” she asked, a sudden tingle running up her spine, the feeling of eyes burning into the back of her head.

“Sounds good, darling,” Peggy patted her cheek affectionately, warmth in her eyes. She scooped up her belongings and headed to where her niece sat waiting.

Natasha wiped at her forehead with a cool cloth, the feeling of being watched intensifying. She looked towards the row of chairs by the door, unsurprised to find Steve seated there. What surprised her was the tall, man standing beside him, who was not even trying to conceal the fact that he was blatantly staring at her. Every part of her. Shit, who was this guy? What was he doing here?

She put on her drill instructor face, striding over to them. “Rogers,” she said as she reached them.

Steve stood, leaning on one crutch, the man beside him smiling brightly at her. “Hello Natasha,” he said politely, obviously attempting to avoid explaining the intense stare of his companion.

She stood there, one hand propped on her hip, her eyes glancing between the two of them. He stood a little awkwardly, looking ready to get started, his friend staring at her from top to bottom and back up again.

Sighing, Steve gestured with his free hand, “This is— “

“James. How are you?” cutting Steve off, James offered his hand in a gentlemanly fashion.

Taking his hand, Natasha smirked at him, “Hi.” She dropped his hand and looked back at Steve, clearly dismissing James, “Ready to get to work?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling at her and following her off to the open mats on the far side of the room. “Sorry about Bucky,” Steve looked a bit embarrassed by his friend’s actions.

Natasha laughed, “Bucky? I figured there was something about that.”

He smiled at her, commiserating. “Yea, James Buchanan Barnes, we’ve been friends since we were kids. He’ll always be Bucky to me, but likes to put on airs around beautiful women.”

Natasha stared at him, her eyebrows rising to her red hair. “Beautiful, huh?” her insides turned to fire, the mark on her lower stomach singing with electricity. The look on Rogers’s face said it all: he thought she was beautiful, it was his opinion, not something that he was repeating from his friend.

Steve blushed, rubbing his hands together awkwardly, “Uh, yea…” he stammered. “So, uh… what are we starting with today?” he asked, hoping to move on from the unintentional admission.

 

Slouching down in his seat, Bucky watched them, his hat pulled low over his eyes. Even from across the room the sexual tension between them was palpable. He smirked, watching Steve get flustered as Natasha’s hands gripped his knee, moving a little higher than he thought might be necessary. Bucky was excellent at being incredibly observant while appearing to be lost in his own world. The skill came in especially handy now.

He’d spent his entire life looking out for Steve, who had been a small, weak, and painfully awkward child and teenager. Puberty had snuck up on him when he was coming up on twenty. It seemed that overnight he’d grown nearly a foot and finally filled out his broad frame. Then, suddenly, while Bucky was chasing the ladies, the ladies were chasing Steve.

It only had gotten worse when the jerk went into a career with the fire department, bulking up even more. Bucky joined him shortly after at the station. It was satisfying work. He got to help people, even save lives, and his best friend ended up being his boss. What more could he ask for?

 _Hm, maybe a gorgeous brunette with a star-shaped mark?_ He thought to himself. The mark on left bicep itching subtly, as if to remind him it was there; that it would not be ignored forever.

Satisfied he’d gathered enough intel to soundly rib Steve with later on, Bucky pulled his cap further down over his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. It was going to be a long night without a little more shut eye; and Steve had another hour and a half to flirt with the sexy red head.

 

Their sessions went well over the next two weeks, Steve managed to keep his thoughts under control and Natasha was professional and focused on his rehab. They met three times a week as originally agreed upon. As the hours passed they found a comfortable banter. Natasha joked about his bum knee and how it made him an old man. Steve poked fun at the occasional slip of her accent. He discovered that she had been born in Russia, growing up there until her late teens when she came to the United States on a student visa. After college she applied for full citizenship in order to stay and work at the best rehab facility in New York.

Steve told about his friendship with Bucky, how he had followed him into firefighting after his short stint in the military, how he’d been quietly relieved after a… disagreement with his commanding officer. Steve didn’t share every little detail and thankfully Natasha didn’t ask or even seem to care. She was always more interested when he started talking about himself, his love of reading, and the fact that he liked to sketch in his spare time.

The conversation came easily between them, despite the burning desire deep in his gut to rip her clothes off and take her right there on the mats in front of everyone.

He tamped down hard on the need, allowing it only to ride freely through his thoughts as he lay awake late at night. She haunted his dreams, he imagined her in every way possible, dressed elegantly on his arm at the officer’s ball, in her pajamas on a Sunday as they read the morning paper, stretched naked and begging beneath him in bed. He woke every night in the early hours, his cock straining against his boxers, the sheets tossed away. Inevitably he’d be left with a raging erection and blue balls, stepping into a cold shower in an attempt to alleviate the ache. Though that never helped much.

The night before his third Friday session with Natasha he lay in bed, dreading sleep and the sexual frustration that came with it. Breaking down, he pulled out his laptop and went to Bucky’s most highly recommended site. He searched a few minutes, finding himself drawn to a gorgeous redheaded woman, though she just didn’t do it for him.

A moment later he groaned at himself, closing the laptop and instead diving into his own imagination. He pictured Natasha bent over before him, though instead of gripping his knee she was gripping his cock, wrapping her full red lips around the head. Pumping himself in his fist, Steve moaned quietly, her grey-green eyes peaking up at him from under long lashes. It had been far too long since he’d gotten laid and too many weeks aching for her, he was lost in his release within minutes. Sighing deeply and wiping away the evidence of his orgasm with the shirt he’d pulled off earlier, he slunk down against his pillow, falling into a dreamless and restful sleep for the first time in weeks.


	3. A Plan in Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha continues lusting after Steve and comes up with an interesting plan to investigate something a little further. Steve finally sees her soulmate mark. [dramatic music]

Natasha lay awake that same night, her mind racing, her skin flushed under the touch of her own hands. She’d been completely unable to keep him from her thoughts. Honestly she had stopped trying.

She wanted his hands on her, those long fingers twisting her nipples into hardened points, his narrow hips bucking underneath her own as she rode him into oblivion. Longing to scrape her fingernails across his chest as they found ecstatic climax together.

Her mark tingled hotly under her hands as she caressed her skin. Peeling her tank top off, she dipped her hands into her silk panties, her pussy wet at just the thought of him. She pressed one finger deep inside herself, rubbing her clit with her other hand. She came fast and hard, the image of Steve’s bright blue eyes bursting like lightning behind her eyelids.

This was not the first, second, or even tenth time she had touched herself, imagining his hands exploring her body. No matter how many times she brought herself to crashing orgasm she could not satisfy the itch that Roger’s planted deep within her. Every time she was near him it grew. She was beginning to think she was going completely crazy.

What the hell was wrong with her? She’d never had a need like this for any of the men she’d had sex with in the past. Sure, there had been great experiences, sexual liaisons that left her satisfied and unable to move, but this… this _hunger_ was something completely foreign to her.

The sensation of her climax still running fresh through her body, her limbs growing heavy with exhaustion, Natasha slipped slowly into sleep, though there was no reprieve there. Her dreams were more erotic than her waking thoughts. In her dreams Steve was the perfect lover, touching her as though she were made to fit in his hands, whispering dirty words in her ear, bringing her to one shuddering climax after another until she thought she would die from the pleasure.

Her alarm blared at her at its usual time, dragging her reluctantly out of the haze of another wet dream about her new favorite client. She groaned and stretched, shoulders and ankles popping. Natasha hopped in the shower, the steam easing her the rest of the way awake.

Sipping her coffee over her usual omelet, she mentally went over her client list for the day. Pietro was first, he always requested the earliest session, then it was Peggy, Rhodes, and last of the day, Steve. At the name her stomach did a summer sault and her mark tingled.

“Shit,” she mumbled into her coffee. Clearly this thing was not going away any time soon, and Natasha resigned herself to being perpetually frustrated sexually, or she was going to have to do something about it.

She sat, debating, a while longer, the coffee growing cold in her hands. As she pondered her options her fingers unwittingly wandered across her stomach, lifting the hem of her shirt, dancing across the mark.

That damn mark, it had always looked like a bullet scar to her. It was raised across the center, jagged around the top edges, a long zigzagging line falling down from the middle. From the time she was young she felt the need to hide it. With Steve, though, she wanted to show him. For some strange reason way beyond what she could figure out, she wanted to share with him the mark.

She wondered what his mark looked like suddenly. He always wore a t-shirt and shorts, so it was somewhere she hadn’t yet seen. That thought sent a fresh wave of wet heat pooling between her thighs.

“That’s it,” she said forcefully to her empty plate, “today.” She nodded at the plate, a plan formulating in her mind. With, finally, something to focus on, and a plan at hand, she cleaned up her breakfast and grabbed her things, heading out the door.

 

The day went by rapidly, Natasha felt light and ready to deal with the situations at hand. Pietro worked fast, as always, rushing efficiently through each exercise in turn, flirting effortlessly as they went. “You will miss me when I am better,” he teased in his thick accent. She knew he wasn’t genuinely trying to get in her pants, he just had that kind of personality.

She found it especially fun when he’d flirt with Peggy as they met between sessions. He would kiss her hand, she’d blush and comment about how gallant he was. Peggy kept her busy, telling her about her niece Sharon’s latest guy troubles. She didn’t approve of her newest boyfriend, “She insists on dating him, even though their marks are nowhere near matching. His looks like a gem or something, nothing like my dear Sharon’s spiral… If only she could meet a nice man like that Pietro fellow, he’s so sweet.” Peggy winked at her, “And damn cute, too.”

Rhodey was especially focused today, despite Tony’s ribbing and jokes, “I could just tweak it a bit, maybe a cup holder on the right leg?” James Rhodes had broken his lower spine in a horrific sky diving accident. He was doing well, adjusting to the braces and learning how to walk all over again, but it would be months still and at least two more surgeries before he would be able to fully move on his own. Natasha liked them, Tony was snarky and sometimes grated on her last nerve but he really cared about his friend, he’d been the one to fully fund Rhodey’s rehab, upfront, no less. But that’s what you can do when you’re the richest inventor in New York, probably the country.

The hours flew by and before she knew it Steve came in through the door. He looked relaxed today, his shoulders no longer tense as they had been on Wednesday. He smiled easily at her, and she waved, signaling she was ready for him.

Natasha didn’t even bother trying to hide her appreciative gaze as he hobbled to her. Even with one knee stiffly braced and a crutch under his arm he moved with elegance. She wondered suddenly if he had taken dance as a child. She herself had taken more than ten years of ballet, as all good Russian girls do, and noticed a hint of balance and grace that was often inherent in experienced dancers.

“Hi, Natasha,” he said, a little breathlessly when he reached her. The sound of his voice washed over her skin like silk, sending chills down her spine reigniting the fire in her gut.

 _Damn._ He affected her even more now that she’d decided to drop her guard around him.

“Hey,” she replied, a genuine smile on her lips. His eyes glowed and the faintest flush of pink colored his cheeks. This was a good sign, maybe he was just as affected by her.

_This might be easier than I thought._

“Ready to get started?” she asked. Steve nodded, leaning his crutch against the wall.

 

She was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. God. He knew she was sexy as hell, but now that the fog of arousal had abated he could see her more clearly. Her eyes were exactly the color of the clouds after a thunder storm. She had full pouty lips that he was dying to taste, and that hair! Falling in waves to her shoulders, red like the sun as it set the sky ablaze, sinking below the horizon.

They got to work straight away, business as usual, or so he thought. There was something different about Natasha today; something about her eyes and the way she was looking at him. She never avoided eye contact but today her gaze seemed to linger. More than once he caught her staring. At his eyes, his mouth, even once he would have sworn he caught her staring boldly at his crotch. She didn’t stop when he caught her gaze, one eyebrow raising in question. She just smiled at him and carried on looking. Her eyes caressed him, making his skin burn and his persistent erection return with a vengeance. Steve was sure she’d notice and found his own eyes wandering over her body. Natasha’s waist was so narrow he thought he could probably span the distance easily with his hands. The way her black yoga pants clung to the curves of her ass was especially distracting.

Nearing the end of their session, the air thick with unspoken desires, she told him to stand. “We’re going to finish with some stretching. I want to make sure we’re not overworking your knee and ignoring the rest of your body.” She seemed completely professional but there was that something again; the tiniest hint of a little bit… more in the way she said it.

Natasha stood opposite him demonstrating each stretch. She crossed one arm over her chest, stretching out the shoulder, then continued with the other arm. Next she lifted her arm up over her head leaning to the left. Her shirt rode up just enough to expose a swatch of creamy skin, making his mouth water. His fingers itched to touch her. She straightened and moved on with the other arm, stretching to the right, showing him the other side of her lower stomach which was when his heart nearly exploded. It slammed against his ribcage so violently he was sure everyone in the room would hear it.

There it was; a thunder cloud-shaped patch of skin he was extremely familiar with. He had seen it every day of his life. It was ridged around the top edge, raised in the middle, a single bolt of lightning streaking down from the center. At least that’s what he always thought it looked like, Bucky had once told him it looked an awful lot like a healed over bullet wound.

No matter what you called it, it was the exact match to his own mark.

_Natasha is my soul mate?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, and I wasn't obvious enough, the guy that Peggy's niece is dating is supposed to be Vision, gem-shaped mark, lol. I'm so clever, no, but that's ok. :)


	4. Taco Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve asks Natasha out for dinner at his place. Taco night turns into some amazing soul-bonding sex. This chapter is quite a bit longer than the previous ones, and totally worth the wait. :) Enjoy!

Natasha watched him closely, looking for any reaction at all. It was easy to see the exact moment he spotted it. It would have been hard for him to miss; he hadn’t taken his eyes off her once in the past two hours.

The second she stretched to the right his eyes went wide. She could swear he stopped breathing. His gaze locked on her mark and it burned, sparking to life like she’d never felt before. It didn’t hurt, more like the heat of a hot tub as you sank into the bubbling water; comforting, soothing ever.

“Don’t forget to breath,” she instructed as calmly as she could manage while her own heart raced. He looked into her eyes at that, his pupils were blown wide, color spreading across his cheeks. She could see his pulse thrumming at the base of his throat. Natasha had the sudden urge to go to him and press her tongue to the spot. To explore every inch of his skin until she found it. She knew deep in her gut, like she knew the sun would rise in the morning; she would find a bullet hole shaped mark somewhere on his flawlessly tanned skin.

“All right, great job today, Steve,” she said, shaking her arms out, peeing at him with open curiosity. Now that he had seen it what would be his next move?

Steve grabbed his crutch, leaning on it for support. He looked as though he was struggling to find the words to say what he wanted. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, closing it again a second later.

Steve shook his head slightly and said, “Natasha, do you like Mexican food?”

She raised her eyebrows, that wasn’t exactly what she had expected. “Yea, I love anything spicy,” she told him. “Why, do you know a good place?” she said.

He smiled, “Uh, yea… my place? Tonight?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “What, you save lives, you draw, and you cook?” she asked teasingly.

“Man’s gotta eat,” he replied, “So? Tonight? 8:00?”

“Sounds good. Here’s my number, text me your address,” she took his hand, scribbling her number on his palm with a marker. She blew on the writing gently, drying the ink, looking up into his eyes as she did.

He swallowed hard, dazed, “I’ll, uh, see you tonight.”

 

He texted her the address of his and Bucky’s apartment when he got home. A minute later his phone chirped.

“You like tequila? Or should I bring rum?”

He smirked at the screen, “Tequila is good, but I’m out of limes.”

“I’ll grab a few on my way over. See you soon.”

Steve felt like a goddamn hormonal teenager. Knowing she would be here soon sent his heart slamming through his chest, his cock twitching in response, remembering the feeling of her breath fanning across his open palm. It may have been the single most erotic sensation he had yet experienced in his life.

He was chopping peppers and dicing onions when Bucky came into the kitchen. “Fuck, am I missing taco night?” he whined, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge.

“You’re not invited to taco night,” Steve replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh really, well who is?” Bucky asked, sitting at the breakfast bar. “Is it that therapist of yours?”

Steve looked up at that, catching the intensely curious expression on his face. Sighing inwardly Steve nodded. “Yes, Natasha is coming for dinner.”

He wasn’t quite ready to tell Bucky about the soulmate revelation just yet. Let him think what he wanted for the time being. Which, based on the smug as hell look on his face was exactly what he planned on.

“Good. I’m heading to the station. There’s a box of condoms in my bedside table, Cap,” he said, smugly ducking out of the kitchen. Steve heard him laughing as he closed the front door behind him.

Steve threw the ground beef in the pan along with the peppers, onions, minced garlic, basil, and crushed red pepper. As the mix simmered in the pan he turned on the stereo and tidied up the apartment. Bucky’s words nagged at the edge of his mind.

_No, it’s a first date._ he thought to himself. _Do I want to be_ that _guy?_

He groaned aloud, “Better safe than sorry, I suppose.”

He went into Bucky’s tornado zone of a room, clothes and papers thrown everywhere. “Geez, Buck,” he said into the empty room, wading through the mess to the table at his bedside. He pulled out a single foil package and closed the drawer. Steve debated a moment, then pulled a handful, stuffing them in the pocket of his apron. If he was going to be that guy he might as well do it right. He stashed them quickly in his nightstand and returned to the kitchen.

 

Natasha knocked on the door, tequila in hand. A moment later the door opened, Steve stood there looking stunning as ever. He was wearing a striped apron that said “Oh Crêpe” in bold letters across the front.

She smiled, holding up the bottle, “I brought provisions.”

“Amazing, I could use a shot,” he confessed, stepping back to let her inside. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

She followed him towards the kitchen, quite enjoying the view. He was barefoot, wearing light blue khaki pants that fit just right, hugging his firm backside in all the right places.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, turning back to the cheese he was grating into a bowl.

Natasha looked around the apartment, it was a nice place. Big open space, well big for New York. There were windows all along one wall, leading out to a small balcony.

“Nice place you got here,” she told him, placing the bottle and limes on the kitchen counter. 

“Thanks, is suits us pretty well,” he said over his shoulder.

She smiled, guessing the other half of “us” was his buddy, Bucky.

“So you got some shot glasses? I could use a drink myself.”

“Yea, they’re over here, top cabinet,” he told her, motioning with his chin, just above his right shoulder. She came up behind him, placed a hand at his waist and reached up into the cabinet for two glasses. Nat could hear his sharp intake of breath at her touch and her mark sparked into life again. Natasha pressed up on her toes, whispering, her lips grazing his ear, “Thanks.”

At hat he drooped the cheese grater and spun around to face her, “If you want to eat you better grab some plates. They’re up there,” he pointed over his shoulder to the cabinet on his other side.

Smiling seductively Natasha leaned into him and reached for two plates. This game was dangerous and the most thrilling foreplay she’d ever engaged in.

Steve kept his palms planted safely on the counter edge behind him. As she came back down onto flat feet she breathed in and said, “Mm, smells great.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled as well. “Pour a shot. Where’s the lime? I’ll slice it for us.”

As she stepped back his body shouted in protest, wanting nothing more than for her to press up against him again, for him to wrap his arms around her and never let go. She brought him one lime and twisted the cap off the tequila, expertly filling each glass.

He sliced the lime quickly and held out his hand for the liquor. They toasted each other, eyes burning into one another’s as they tipped the cool glass against their lips.

“Woo!” she exclaimed, popping a slice of lime between her teeth, sucking at the juice. The liquor burned a fire down her throat brining her slightly back into her mind.

“Dinner ready? I’m starved.”

“Yes, help yourself,” he gestured to the spread on the breakfast bar. Nat stood, staring into his eyes a moment longer debating which she was hungrier for; tacos or Steve. Deciding she would need her strength for her plans for the rest of the night she picked up a plate and sat at the table. Steve watched her hungrily and then made a plate for himself.

Two tacos and three shots later Steve was feeling the perfect amount of drunk. His bravery had been boosted, his inhibitions toned down a bit but he hadn’t reached the level of sloppy drunk that Bucky referred to as, “white girl wasted”. Natasha was a full shot ahead of him and the only evidence of her intoxication was a slight hint of pink across her cheeks.

They had covered most of the ‘safe’ topics of conversation and had fallen into a comfortable silence. They sat across from one another, sipping water and staring at the other’s face. Natasha raised one finely shaped eyebrow at him in question.

His mind went blank and he tilted his head like a confused puppy. He could feel her bare toes wandering their way up the inside of his pant leg. She explored as high as she could, until the hem of his pants bunched around the middle of his calf. The sensation was intense, shooting lightning through his veins. His pants grew painfully tight as his member swelled, pressing with persistence against the zipper.

Natasha smiled seductively at him and said, “Ready for dessert?”

Every nerve in his body clung to her words, grasping for any other meaning than the one that sent fire through his limbs and ignited an inferno in his gut.

“Well there is some chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer,” he offered, his breath catching as her foot found its way to his crotch, snuggling up to his throbbing erection. Steve’s eyes rolled in his head at the sensation and when he looked at her again her cheeks were flushed, her pupils blown wide with a desire that matched his own.

Nat stood from her seat, leaning over the table and taking the collar of his shirt in her fingers, “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.” Her blouse hung forward enough for Steve to see straight down, catching a glimpse of the lacey black fabric of her bra and his mouth went dry.

In a flash of movement that sent their plates shattering to the floor Steve stood, took hold of the hand at his shirt and pulled her across the table and into his lap. She settled herself above him, one leg on either side of his hips, pressing her core against the hot ridge in his pants. One hand on her thigh the other cupped her chin and brought her face to his. He sealed his lips across hers and the world suddenly made sense for the first time in his life. It was like he understood every law of physics. Gravity, time, space; it all had meaning now.

Natasha explored his mouth freely, pressing her tongue between his lips, dancing with his. She gripped the back of his neck with her hands and nudged herself against his cock, riding him through the layers of their clothing. Heat seared through her veins, electricity singing through every nerve; her mark glowing like a supernova. Steve released her mouth, wandering down the length of her neck with lips, teeth, and tongue.

She moaned above him, the vibrations tickling his tongue as he licked the pulse point at the base of her throat. “God. I’ve been waiting to do that for weeks,” she sighed, looking down at him.

“I’m not done with you yet, love,” he told her, his hands wandering down her sides, over her thighs, cupping her firm ass, guiding her movements as she bucked against him.

Her lips sought his out once more, he was sure she would devour him whole, and he had no complaints. Her fingers danced down his chest, popping one button free from its hole at a time until the fabric sagged open. Dipping her hands inside she found smooth tanned skin stretched across strong muscles that flexed under her touch. She pulled away, looking into his blue eyes, gazing at a fire that rivaled the one burning her to ashes from the inside. She released his gaze, her eyes dropping down to his lips, his throat, his chest, and there it was. Just as she had known it would be; a jagged mark just below his sternum, screaming at her: _he’s the one._

She smiled brightly, touching the mark gently with a single fingertip.

He followed her gaze, looking down at her fingers as they caressed his mark. A feeling of destiny flooding his limbs. Steve stared at her face, watching the emotions run across her face; smugness, wonder, joy, and a final emotion he was afraid to place a name on just yet.

Unable to contain himself, knowing she was meant to be his and no one else’s a low growl escaped his throat and he scooped her up, standing with his good leg and placing her on the table, knocking the last glass to the floor. The sound of it shattering lost in the explosive sound of blood racing in their ears.

Natasha shoved his gaping shirt off Steve’s shoulders and pulled her own blouse over her head, the read fabric pooling, forgotten, on the floor. God she was gorgeous, creamy skin flushed with desire, her eyes burning into his. Natasha bit down on her lower lip, catching at the front clasp on her bra, she unhooked it, her breasts spilling free from the lacy fabric. Steve wasted no time. Sliding up her sides his hands cupped their weight, his rough thumbs grazing over the already tightened peaks. She sighed at his touch, arching into his large hands.

Steve pressed her back onto the table’s surface, propped himself on his elbows and slammed his lips across hers. With one hand he reached down, unbuttoning her jeans. Meanwhile she reached for his waistband, popping the button on his pants, pulling the zipper, sliding the garment down over his ass, detouring long enough to get a handful of his left cheek and squeezing the firm muscle through the fabric of his boxers.

His hungry mouth tasted every inch of skin he could reach, trailing a line of smoldering kisses down her neck to her breasts, he took each nipple between his teeth, nibbling gently on the sensitive flesh. Natasha bent off the table, pushing her breast further into his mouth and dug her nails into his ass, pulling him closer against her. She rotated her hips, seeking the friction she’d been needing desperately for weeks. He released her nipple and groaned, following her lead, grinding his cock against her through her jeans.

“Natasha,” he moaned against her skin. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“No crazier than I already am.”

He growled again and the sound sent shivers down her spine. He took her by the hands, pulling her up from the table, setting her firmly on her feet. He sat back in the chair long enough to tug his pants over the smaller brace he’d begun wearing on his injured knee, grateful the joint had held out this long.

She frowned slightly, as if suddenly remembering his torn ligaments. Nat helped him stand, her hands on his waist, toying with the waistband of his boxers, pressing her hips close against his.

“Which way?” she whispered, dipping her fingers into the blue cotton just far enough to feel a trace of coarse hair tickle her fingertips.

Steve raised a hand, gesturing blindly behind him. He only had eyes for her, everything else in the world had faded away into a fuzzy swatch of unremarkable greys.

She hooked her index finger securely in the front of his underwear and led him in the direction he motioned. Instinctively she turned left in the hall, seeming to sense the way to his room. Natasha backed him up against the bed, knocking him gently into the center of the mattress. She stood before him like a dream come to life, glowing in the gentle light of his lamp and the moon shining through his open curtains. Taking hold of the denim at her waist, she tugged the material open, shimmying out of the tight jeans, revealing a black lace thong that matched her long-discarded bra.

She bent at the waist, hovering over him, her nails tracing patterns over his tan skin. She caught his gaze with hers, her hands sliding up his thighs, catching at his boxers and tugging them down. His erection sprang free, rock hard, pre cum beading at the tip. She took him in both her hands, cupping him gently then squeezing slightly. He moaned, his head falling back against the mattress, and she smiled smugly. She licked his head, the salty taste setting her core alight. In one expert move she took him completely into her mouth, sliding her hands down to his base. She bobbed her head on his cock, pleasuring him with her mouth, bringing him to the edge and pulling away.

Teasing. It was the most exquisite torture.

He groaned loudly, “Natasha…”

She could sense he was losing control, his hips bucking up underneath her. He tried to keep still but he began fucking her mouth, feeling himself hit the back of her throat. She hugged his length with her lips, twisting her fingers around the base of his cock.

Groaning, Steve pulled his hips back, freeing himself from her talented mouth. “No, I’m not ready yet,” he told her. “I want to feel you.”

She began to crawl up the mattress above him but he stopped her with a hand, pointing at the table where his lamp sat. “Top drawer,” he explained, silently thanking Bucky for his preparedness.

Turning and stretching, Natasha dug in the drawer, coming up with a single silver square. She took one corner between her teeth and tore at the foil. She rolled the condom halfway down his length with her expert fingers, and pushed it the rest of the way with her mouth, giving him one good suck on the way back up. Settling her hips astride his, she took him in one hand, pulling her soaked thong to the side with her other. She guided him into her waiting pussy, sinking onto his length, sheathing him in her body in one swift movement.

Natasha moaned at the feeling of being filled so completely, her mark singing like a chorus of angels. It was so right, so perfect, and erased every other man’s touch from her mind and soul. There was no one for her but Steve Rogers. There never would be again. She was lost to every other person on the planet, and she would have had it no other way.

Steve’s hands gripped her ass, his fingers entwining with the scrap of fabric that only added to the erotic image of her riding his cock above him. He held her ass, tilting her hips against him, bucking up to meet her every movement as she rode him.

Looking into his eyes, Nat braced her palms on his chest, her thumbs brushing the edges of a mark she’d spent her life seeing as the ugliest part of herself. Now as she bounced atop him, raising both their pleasure to a nearly unbearable level, it filled her heart with joy and a sense of possibility. Overwhelmed with the enormity of it all she threw her head back, riding the wave of sensation storming through her every cell.

Sitting up, Steve captured her chin with one hand, bring her mouth back to his, kissing her passionately, as though she would disappear, fading into nothing, and he would awake, once again alone in his bed. But she didn’t, she was solid and here and real.

They pressed together, crashing likes waves on the shore, and pulled apart only to slam back together again, as if the impact would fuse them into one being and they would remain this way for eternity.

Steve moved his hand around the side of her hip, dipping down between them to find her clit. He rubbed his thumb over the sensitive bud, bringing her swiftly to the edge.

She moaned his name, her fingers curling around his neck, her nails digging in, gripping him as though he were the only thing anchoring her to this world. And he was, in her soul she knew: now that she had him she would cease to truly exist without him. It was the way of the soul bond. Just as she had heard all her life; once you found the one there was nothing else in the universe that could shake that fundamental connection to your other half.

Love blossoming in her heart she rode him harder, chasing her climax. It came fast as he teased her clit, his lips at her throat. She cried out his name, sweet like chocolate on her tongue.

Steve felt her contracting around him, her climax bringing him deeper into her. The tremors of her orgasm sent him straight over the edge, milking him for everything he was worth.

“Natasha,” he moaned, falling back against the mattress, his body spent, his soul complete.

She sagged against his chest, a soft smile on her lips, her fingers tracing the outline of a bullet scar shaped mark.

“Mm,” she moaned in complete satisfaction. “I’ve never had dessert like that before.”

He laughed heartily, the sound rumbling through her.


End file.
